


The Night Diurnal

by UselessLesbianLaughter



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination Attempt(s), F/F, Heavy Angst, Hiding a Body, Murder, Post-Season/Series 03, SuperCorp, as a bonding activity, but that's a long time coming strap in, i guess, not any major characters though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessLesbianLaughter/pseuds/UselessLesbianLaughter
Summary: The banging continued as Kara knocked over a mug she’d left on the floor, as she looked through the peephole and concluded only when she opened the door, with Lena nearly falling into her arms.Lena’s eyes were vacant, she looked detached, as if staring into the abyss, entirely unfazed. She had blood running down her face, dripping onto her neck, splatters covered her whole chest and abdomen. She was coated in it.“Can I have a drink?” she asked, radically calm.ORIt's a sleepless night for Kara when a knock sounds at her door. It's Lena, covered in blood.The fic where Supercorp hides a freshly dead body together as a bonding activity after Kara betrayed Lena. Vaguely post-S3.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 20
Kudos: 122





	1. forgets the night her mother; summoning the psychopomp

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely post-S3, ignoring most of S4. Could loosely be read as a sequel to "Et tu, Kara?" but doesn't have to be. Could also be read as post-S4, ignoring Crisis. Most essentially, Lena found out Kara is Supergirl, Kara found out Lena found out, and it did not end well. 
> 
> Thank you, maestaswd on Tumblr for beta-reading, you've been a tremendous help!
> 
> CW: graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of early decomposition/a corpse

The clock on Kara’s bedroom wall ticked 3am. She glared at it as if the poor object was to blame for her lying awake at this ungodly hour.

There was a knock on her door. Then another. Then another. A beat of silence followed, broken by banging on her door, aggressive, desperate banging. Kara couldn’t ignore it any longer. She sat up in bed and slid on her pink fuzzy slippers, stood up, stretched, and pulled on a morning robe. Sluggish, she made her way to the door. The banging continued as Kara knocked over a mug she’d left on the floor, as she looked through the peephole and concluded only when Kara opened the door, with Lena nearly falling into her arms.

Lena’s eyes were vacant, she looked detached, as if staring into the abyss, entirely unfazed. She had blood running down her face, dripping onto her neck, splatters covered her whole chest and abdomen. She was coated in it.

“Can I have a drink?” she asked, radically calm.

Kara, dumbfounded and eyes wide, couldn’t do anything but nod and step out of the way. Lena walked inside, dropping her bag on the floor and making her way to the dining table.

“It’s dark in here,” she said.

Kara turned on the lights. She carefully approached the dining table, as if there was a landmine hidden somewhere under the floorboards. Opening the cupboard, she finally spoke up, stuttering on her first word.

“I, uh, I don’t have the right glass.”

“Oh, it’s fine. That works,” Lena said as Kara took a mug from the cupboard.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have much, just this,” Kara said sheepishly, getting a bottle from the cabinet next to the fridge and demonstrating the label to Lena.

“Decent taste,” Lena commented. Kara didn’t bother to tell her the bottle had been a gift and had remained unopened up until this point. She poured the whiskey into the mug and handed it to Lena who immediately took a hearty sip.

The room got quiet for a moment as Lena drank and Kara stared at her. Noticing the panic in Kara’s eyes, Lena drew in a heavy breath, her eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.

“Oh, this. I should probably explain. Long or short version?” she asked.

“Are you hurt?” Kara asked under her breath in response.

“No. Well, here and there but most of it’s not mine.”

“Then whose?”

“Long story. Sit down.”

Kara did as she was told.

“I need your help,” Lena continued, “with a delicate matter,” suddenly, her eyes sharpened, as though she’d been underwater and had swum to the top, “This doesn’t mean I trust you,” she lifted her index finger by an inch to point at Kara, her eyes clear but bitter, “but I don’t trust anyone, and you’re my best bet,” her eyes glazed over again after that, her finger dropped down and she looked all-together number than ever.

“Anything,” Kara breathed.

Her mind was racing. If it wasn’t Lena’s blood, whose was it? There had to be a rational explanation for it. It couldn’t be that she’d…. Or could it? Could it be that Lena, her best friend, had killed someone? And if she had, what the hell was she doing in her apartment? Was that a cut she saw on her forehead?

“You are hurt,” she observed, pointing to the cut and noticing the bruises disguised by blood on her neck a moment later, “let me clean you up.”

Before Lena could object, Kara had already disappeared into another room, returning with a first aid kit. She laid everything out on the table, washed her hands, and, spraying antiseptic on a piece of cotton, said, “Tell me everything.”

Lena winced as Kara touched the cotton to the cut.

“Just my quarterly assassination attempt. You know I have a lot of enemies. I’m walking through one of my storage facilities and the next thing I know, there’s a bullet scraping my cheek.”

“What?” Kara yelled. Lena shushed her, careful not to wake anyone at such a late hour, knowing the walls were thin, but didn’t say anything for a while. The events of the evening played back in front of her eyes.

_ Lena stepped out of the executive office, rolling her head back to ease her sore neck, more than eager to go home and get to sleep. Her heels clicked on the marble flooring as she made her way through the building. As she rounded the corridor, her ankle buckled and she nearly tripped.  _

_ She fell back just enough to miss the bullet perfectly aimed for her head. Her eyes flashed open and all thoughts of sleep deserted her mind. _

_ She ducked instinctively, dropped all her belongings and sought cover. Vulnerable and unarmed, she retreated behind the corner of the hallway. There, she was presented with three different dead ends: the office, the conference room, and the warehouse area. Deciding jumping from a fourth-floor window wouldn’t be worth a shot, she chose the warehouse, the door to which was about two feet from her and made of steel. She decided to shoot her shot and made a run for it, swiping the key card hanging from her neck to unlock it and pulling it open with all the force in her body. _

_ She managed to slip behind it, allowing it to close with a thud behind her. Considering herself safe for a second, she pressed her back against the door and slid down to the floor, sighing. _

_ Once she’d caught her breath, she heard footsteps in the hallway. She kicked off her heels, for convenience and to muffle the sound of her steps, and made a run for it. The warehouse was a vast maze of high shelves full of carefully labelled boxes, not at all the worst place to hide, but the only exit was the one she’d come in through. _

_ She slid behind a set of shelves and patted herself down, as if hoping to find a gun holster that’d magically appeared on her thigh as she was running. Of course, she found no such thing. She had to arm herself somehow. There had to be something in one of those boxes that’d have to do, she just didn’t know where to start looking. _

_ The door hadn’t creaked open yet, if nothing else, that much was good. Lena thought herself quite well-hidden by the shelves but she couldn’t hide forever, the warehouse remained a dead end. She turned to the boxes and looked for labels, determining most useless immediately. _

_ “Shit,” she breathed. _

_ Spare machine parts upon spare machine parts but nothing even slightly resembling a weapon anywhere in sight. Just as she was about to admit defeat, she spotted something on a shelf a few feet away. Not a box but a bottle of water, in all likelihood, left there by a forgetful employee that would be looking at a promotion if Lena made it out of there alive. A  _ glass _ bottle. _

_ She leapt to it, grabbed it from the shelf and struck it against the metal of the shelf without any forethought. It shattered upon impact, the shards falling to the ground with a clatter, the biggest piece remaining in her hand, now sharp as a knife. At the exact same time as the glass clattered to the ground, the door swung open and thudded shut. _

_ Lena heard steps, determined, angry steps, coming her way. What was she thinking, going against a gunman with a broken bottle? It was the best chance she’d got. She backed up from the glass shards on the floor, afraid she’d step on one and doom herself that way, careful not to make any noise. _

_ The steps sped up but changed direction, now moving away from Lena. She made herself as flat as possible against the nearest shelf, minimizing her visibility. She tried to peer out but saw nothing quite yet. It was agonizing, the waiting. She was shaking, so hard she feared the assassin might find her by the sound of it alone. Then, she saw him- not him, his shadow- and the shivering stopped. Her hand gripped the bottle tighter. _

_ He was coming her way again. She didn’t have much of a battle plan, her best shot was to catch him by surprise. When out-powered, outsmart. Any second now. _

_ He passed Lena’s shelf. She ducked. He missed her, just for a second, but a second was enough. She delivered a strategic kick to the shins, so he buckled, and leapt, gripping him by the shoulders, then establishing a firm chokehold and wrapping her legs around his torso so his arms stayed down. The kick didn’t take him down. He was a big, bulky man, and strong. First, he tried to lift his gun-wielding arm, then, he twisted his hand upward but lacked the aim to shoot. _

_ Lena dragged the sharp edges of the bottle across his chest, with enough pressure to hurt but not enough to kill. He screamed, then broke free of her grip with a fierce grunt, his arms detaching hers with force, striking her legs so hard they faltered. Lena flew to the ground but not before firmly gripping what appeared to be a knife in his holster. As she fell to the floor and got the air knocked out of her, the knife came with her. _

_ Before he could even aim his weapon at her, she sliced his calf from the ground. He fell to his knees as she crawled towards him, getting back on her feet, swift as a viper. She grabbed the pistol from his hand; he refused to surrender it. She tugged harder, grunting, her eyes aflame. His free hand went for Lena’s throat and she gasped for air in desperation. Her lips turned blue and her grip loosened but she managed to deliver a blow to his throat with her elbow before the lights went out. He fell back, but only for a moment, enough for Lena to catch a breath and claim the gun. _

_ He struck her in the face, and her grip faltered again. The pistol dropped to the floor. He went to take it but Lena kicked it away before he could. It slid across the smooth flooring far out of reach. He struck her again, a hook strong enough to grind Lena’s teeth together, her lip stuck between them. _

_ She tasted blood. As though just remembering she had it, she raised the knife in her hand. It was a threat, nothing more. But he, as though seeing through her intentions, pushed her to the ground. He stepped his heavy foot on one of her arms and pinned her to the ground, his other leg remaining on its knee. He had chosen the wrong arm, leaving the knife-wielding one free for a second too long. _

_ As he descended upon her, his breath abrasive against her skin, his arm reaching to pin down her free arm, she pulled it away in a swift motion and plunged it. _

_ It slid smoothly into his ribcage, and came out just the same. Blood trickled over her lips as a river winds across hills and valleys. She didn’t part them, still, she tasted iron. He didn’t go limp all at once. Afraid he’d fall on her, Lena rolled them over so she was straddling the man, still breathing, anger still burning in his eyes. She felt his muscles tense under her and struck him again, with more force this time, unthinking. Again, she tore the knife out, and again she stabbed it into his chest. She repeated the motion until the life faded from his eyes, until she could no longer hear his ragged breathing, until there was blood flowing from his throat with a terrible, gurgling noise. Even then, she didn’t stop. _

_ The knife came in and out of his chest and his throat, slicing through flesh with disgusting ease. He was bulky and rugged and rough but his flesh was as soft to pierce as any. She stopped only when she finally felt some resemblance of safety, or when she was too exhausted to continue, whichever came first. She let the knife slide away from her and collapsed on top of him, out of breath, her eyes clouded over, her lip still bloodied. _

_ She didn’t know how long she lay there. All she knew, when she got up, was where she must go. So, she went. _ __  
__  



	2. here, where the world is quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, maestaswd on Tumblr for beta-reading

__ Lena shuddered, thinking about it, but her expression showed no change. Finally, she spoke up.

“I hid. He found me. We fought. I killed him,” she sighed, “what else is there to say? I need your help.”

“Help with what?” Kara asked, dumbfounded, her hand stopping mid-air over Lena’s bloodied brow.

Lena took a sip of whiskey.

“The body.”

A beat of uncomfortable silence.

“Right,” Kara said, and soon resumed treating Lena’s wounds.

The room rang hollow with silence yet again. After a while, Kara spoke up.

“Well, I could,” she paused, refusing to make eye contact, “I could take it. Fly it out to sea,” she couldn’t believe what she was saying. She heard the words coming out of her mouth but they felt foreign, surreal, like a bad dream she’d wake from any moment now.

“No,” Lena shook her head, “no, I couldn’t let you do that.”

Kara waits for Lena to explain and when she doesn’t, she asks.

“Why not?”

“Well, I’ve already killed him, it’d be terribly  _ rude _ not to give him a proper funeral now. I think he deserves that much. Doesn’t everyone?” she breathed.

“Right,” Kara nodded, “so then, what’s, I mean, do you have a plan in mind?”

Lena nodded and took another sip. Kara fetched a clean cloth and doused it in lukewarm water, taking it to Lena’s jaw.

“I figured it out on the ride here. Just how intensely are you tracked by government radars?” Lena asked.

“Like, on a scale of one to ten?” Kara asked, confused.

“Sure, if you’d like,” Lena agreed.

“Like a five? I’m pretty hard to track.”

“That’ll do. We can’t drive anywhere or take a jet, way too trackable. Slow, too. There’s this obscure forest I stumbled upon years ago, on the opposite end of the country. It’s completely deserted, no civilization for miles. Lovely,” she bit her lip, her train of thought fading away for a second, “lovely place.”

“And you want to-” Kara began.

“Bury it- him,” she corrected herself, “there.”

“And you need my help to get him there. I see,” Kara replies.

Suddenly, Lena turned to face Kara, her eyes finding Kara’s, looking both dead and alive, most of all, impossible to look away from.

“Would you do it? I won’t force you. Turn me in, if you’d like. But if you trust me,” she began to say. Kara didn’t let her finish.

“I’ll do it,” she said, her voice carrying an unnerving determination.

Lena didn’t say anything in reply but the faintest smile, sad in nature, painted her lips, though her eyes still looked distant. She took Kara’s hand, still tending to the drying blood on her skin with a damp cloth, first at the wrist, seizing it gently mid-air and bringing it down, the cloth dropping from Kara’s fingers, then taking it in hers though not interlacing their fingers.

“Thank you,” she spoke with her voice barely above a whisper. She paused to gather her thoughts, “We should probably get going,” she said then, and finished her whiskey after letting go of Kara’s hand. She stood up. Kara saw her reaching into her pocket for car keys.

“Whoa, you are  _ not _ driving,” she said, gesturing to the empty glass Lena had left on the counter. Lena didn’t make a big show of disagreeing, she just tossed the keys to Kara.

“You drove here?” Kara followed up, “What if someone saw your car? What about security footage?”

Lena looked at Kara growing more exasperated with each word, her gaze hollow.

“If someone asks, we’ll just say we’re having an affair,” she said. Kara’s eyes shot wide open. “Kidding,” Lena followed up, her voice monotone, “I’ll just delete the security footage, these systems are nothing to hack into.”

Kara chuckled, dry and lacking humour.

“Will you drive us, then?” Lena asked.

Kara chewed on her bottom lip. “I could fly us,” she said.

Lena considered the offer but ended up shaking her head in disagreement. 

“The city’s too busy for that,” she said, “and after all, we shouldn’t flaunt my license plate this time of night. We must hurry, sunrise isn’t far away. We’ll take the bus and keep a low profile. Have you any clothes I could borrow? Mine are quite,” she didn’t have to finish her sentence as it was clear from the sight of her what she meant.

“The bus?” Kara asked in sheer surprise.

“Why not? You have a habit of flying places on buses, or am I wrong?” Lena teased, her words contrasting with the cold tone of her voice. Kara’s cheeks flushed crimson and she rushed to her closet to fetch something suitable.

It was only when she passed the bathroom mirror that she realized her own attire of a morning gown and slippers wasn’t exactly suitable for the occasion, either. She returned with two pairs of dark sweats, one for Lena and one for herself, figuring they were the least likely to draw attention to them.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll fit fine,” she said, handing Lena her clothes.

Lena shot a quick glance at the garments and nodded in approval. She laid them on the table to free up her hands and tugged off her formerly white blouse, not catching Kara staring until she went to undo her belt.

“Sorry, should I go change somewhere else? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she said, the irony of such a statement after the request she’d made minutes ago lost on her.

Kara took a moment to recover but shook her head eventually.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, a little breathless.

“You sure?” Lena asked, hands suspended mid-unbuckling.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re friends, right?” Kara stuttered.

Lena didn’t answer. This wasn’t the time nor place for that discussion. She just lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side as if to say  _ “Whatever you say.”  _ and slid out of her skirt, then tugged on the sweater and pants. Kara did her best not to stare and tried to focus on changing her own clothes instead.

Lena looked her up and down when she finished, considering whether they looked inconspicuous enough, then decided it wouldn’t matter because she didn’t have enough time to wonder, anyway. It would just have to do.

Kara opened the door for Lena and locked it behind them, the keys jangling in her hand. She didn’t bring a purse or anything of the sort. It wasn’t like she knew what to bring to an impromptu funeral.

Lena led the way, as though she’d walked this path a thousand times before, as though she knew exactly where she was going and doing, as though this was any other night. Kara followed suit. Lena’s confidence, albeit unnerving, was helpful.

They had to wait half an hour for the bus as the night buses, even in a metropolitan area, didn’t run often. The bus was almost empty, as they tended to be at this hour, the few people that were on it were the exact kind of crowd one would be expecting. Some teenagers, one holding a giant jug of juice, the other an unmarked bottle of transparent mystery liquid that wasn’t hard to guess. A few homeless people. The odd night-shift worker and, of course, Kara and Lena, dressed head to toe in black, on their way to a most unpleasant task. Still acting as though this was a bus they took every day, acting as though they were friends, as though nothing had happened, as though they were two normal people, not a Luthor and a Super doing their best to avoid being recognized.

The driver was erratic and the ride was bumpy but, at the very least, fast. There was some comfort in that, at least, as the unforgiving light of dawn would be approaching in a few hours, far from optimal conditions for flying a corpse to the other end of the country.

Lena went to sit down and Kara followed suit, not knowing what else to do. Lena sat by the foggy window. After a while of staring out of it and not saying a word while Kara sat with her back straightened, staring straight ahead, like a taxidermied and posed version of herself, Lena began drawing shapes on the window. Kara took a while to notice but when she did, she didn’t dare say anything.

The shapes made no sense, to her at least, and she wasn’t quite sure if Lena was aware she was drawing them at all or if they were coming from somewhere deep down in her subconscious.

After a while, she stopped and lifted her finger, leaving it in the air a few inches from the glass, like a painter considering their work, trying to decide if it needed any finishing touches, or if it was good enough not to be trashed. She stared at them for a moment, a dull type of sadness in her eyes. Soon, they clouded over again and when they got to their stop, she looked robotic, ready for the task ahead as though programmed for it, not considering her operations or her motives, not feeling, only knowing this was what she was built to do and dutifully following the orders she’d been given.

She led Kara into the building, swiping her key card here and there to open doors. She led her upstairs, down the hallway she’d been escaping through just hours ago, which still had blood splattered about the ground. She didn’t say much, just that she’d close down the building for the following day, a Friday, hoping her workers would be happy enough to have an extended weekend not to question her motives.

She led her through the heavy metal door that had saved her life earlier as though it was just another door, as though Kara was nothing but a new worker she was showing the grounds to, explaining what needed to be done here and there. Her step was steady.

She led Kara to the man, lying there just as she’d left him, if a bit colder, a bit stiffer and with a few darkening patches of skin where gravity had inevitably pooled the blood. If one were not to touch him and look at him from a flattering angle, he might’ve looked like someone taking a nap on the job, though in a most uncomfortable position. Of course, all the blood pooled around him, now browning, spoke to the contrary.

Kara took a closer look, curious at first. She didn’t know what else to feel. Then, she felt it building up in her stomach, worming its way into her throat. Without her even noticing it had reached the back of her throat, and she said,

“I think I’m going to be sick,” covering her mouth with her hand in desperation.

“Hold it,” Lena said, her tone cold but short of cruel, “we don’t have time,” she added, and, as though realizing how that might’ve sounded, added, “thank you for helping me do this,” her voice quieter and meeker, closer to human.

Kara nodded, though the twisting in her stomach hadn’t stopped. She only felt queasier as she stared at the pool of blood, and oddly uncomfortable about the veins. She forced herself to get over it and, as soon as she felt confident in her ability to keep it together, she went to inspect the body, squatting down for a closer look. She reached out a hand to touch but before she did, she shot a glance at Lena, asking for permission. Lena simply nodded, though she didn’t feel particularly entitled to give the go-ahead herself. What else was she to do?

Kara felt the man’s paling skin, looking a bit greyish about the face, as though he was ill. Lena hadn’t thought to close his eyes before leaving so they were still half-way open, staring into nothingness underneath a thick cloud of grey.

His face had speckles of dried blood, but his body was in a much worse condition, and his suit, the poor white dress jacket having taken the worst blow, now stained an awful crimson. He wasn’t entirely stiff in the limbs yet but rigor mortis was already setting in so there could be no mistaking them for the limbs of a living person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i'm making a fool of myself at this point begging for comments.


	3. no growth of moor or coppice; no heather-flower or vine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a thousand thank-yous to maestaswd for beta reading yet again, you are a daisy, an absolute daisy!
> 
> thank you to everyone who's been reading this story and the truly surprising amount of you that commented on the last chapter! there will be more action in the next chapter, this one was more of an exploration of kara's inner life and whatnot, either way, i hope you enjoy

Kara figured she couldn’t fly off carrying an unconcealed corpse, simple as that. Even in rural areas, even at high altitudes, it seemed too risky, and if she was being honest, the thought was making her sick again. She willed her mind away from it and decided they had to find some kind of containment unit to carry him. His stiffening joints wouldn’t make fitting him into one any easier.

She took a close look at him then, her thoughts drifting from the task at hand. She looked into his eyes, not dissolved yet, foggy and empty instead. Lifeless. She looked at his greying skin. She looked at his mouth that had a bit of blood dried on the lower lip and seemed to still be filled with the substance. She looked at him. And she didn’t see him. She saw a corpse.

From a distance, the body had almost looked like a living person napping in a pool of blood. Close up, even before external decay, he looked the furthest thing from a sleeping man. He looked dead. Very, very dead.

It was odd, terribly odd. She’d never have wanted anything to do with him when he was alive, still, she struggled coming to terms with the fact she’d never come to find out what he had been like as a person. She felt bad for him, even.

She knew he could’ve killed her best friend; still, she pitied the man lying on the floor. He looked so helpless. The thought of someone finding her own body in a similar state one day filled her with a primal terror. She cast it away. She had no time for such thoughts right now.

She’d think when Lena was safe. That was what she focused on, latching onto the thought as though it was the twig on a cliff she’d fallen from.

_ Lena. _

She was here to protect Lena. She had to make it up to Lena.

_ Lena. _

_ Keep Lena safe. _

She looked at her, standing by the body still, not having moved since Kara had knelt down to inspect it. Kara couldn’t be sure if she was seeing uncertainty behind the woman’s eyes or if she was projecting her own feelings.

“We have to find something to put him in. A,” Kara hesitated, “a container. We need to store him somewhere for the,” she forced the word to leave her lips, practically retching it out, “flight.”

Lena nodded as though in a meeting and Kara had suggested a strategy to up their revenue in the next quarter by a margin of a percent, simple approval, nothing out of the ordinary,  _ yes, that seems to be the logical course of action. _

“We don’t have any freezers,” she said.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t need it preserved, just concealed,” Kara replied, learning to mimic Lena’s monotone approach, hoping it’d make her insides stop turning. It was at that moment she decided to stop referring to the body as  _ he _ and started using  _ it _ instead. Maybe, if she could ignore it’d been a living human being a few hours ago, she’d feel okay with what they were doing. Maybe she could stop wasting time thinking about it and get on with it.

Lena looked at the ground and sighed, trying to think of a makeshift containment unit. It wasn’t like she stored body bags for convenience in case of this kind of event. She shifted through every shelf in her mind, sorted through every box, but didn’t find anything useful. This was the worst storage facility to murder somebody in. No weapons, no impromptu body bags.

Finally, her mind reached the first floor, where the biggest objects were stored for convenience. They were in cardboard boxes, not particularly stable and a bit leaky for this amount of blood, but big enough to hold a tall man with broad shoulders by her estimates.

“Do you think a box would work? A cardboard one, that is,” she asked Kara.

She saw doubt reflecting from Kara’s eyes.

“You don’t have anything better?” the woman asked in turn.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Lena admitted.

Kara nodded.

“Then it will have to do,” she said, “where are they?” she asked, getting up from the floor.

Lena began to give instructions but decided it would be better if she got it herself as she knew the facility far better than Kara. She left but as soon as the door had closed behind her, Kara wished she hadn’t agreed to the plan. Now it was just her and a corpse in a vast space with harsh fluorescent lighting. She looked away from the body and took a few steps back but realized she didn’t have anywhere to go.

Giving in, she walked back to him. For the first time, she spotted a knife lying next to him. It was bloodied, of course. It would have to be discarded, as evidence had to be destroyed, which was a shame.

It was a beautiful hunting knife. Its wooden grip was covered with intricate carvings of forest life — trees, bushes, a bear. She caressed the carvings with her index finger, then picked it up and stroked the grip with her thumb. It left a red stain on her palm but she didn’t mind.

She was fixated on the bear in the picture. Looking at it, she felt at peace, even all alone with this poor dead guy, who wasn’t really that poor of a soul, was he? What was his business trying to kill Kara’s best friend? Who did he think he was?

Reality sunk in. He had come here to kill her. Lena could’ve died. Lena  _ would _ have died if she hadn’t killed him. She thought, then, of Lena lying on that floor, in the same position. The same knife beside her, in the same pool of blood. Her eyes staring into nothingness. Her limbs growing stiffer, never to grow warm again.

The last time they spoke, they fought. Lena would’ve died resenting her.

Kara felt anger bubbling up inside of her, boiling into a sick frenzied rage. She was sitting still but her eyes had caught fire. She wanted to bring him back to life then, so she could kill him again. She saw the image of her hands dragging the knife through his flesh in such vivid detail it scared her. She dropped the knife.

As she did, the door opened at last. She saw Lena, carrying a cardboard box bigger than herself. Kara had to keep herself from grinning at the sight.

Lena seemed robotic still, but Kara thought she could see the ice melting behind her eyes, drop by drop. She put down the box and stared at Kara. Kara stared back, both looking for answers in the other’s eyes, both coming up empty. When they finally spoke, it was at once.

“We should,” Kara started.

“We could,” Lena began.

Kara chuckled, and then covered her mouth in horror at the automatic guttural sound of it.

“You go first,” Lena said.

“I can lift it inside if it fits in there,” she said, “Do you have anything to close it with?”

“There has to be duct tape somewhere around here,” Lena replied. Kara nodded and approached the body, trying to figure out the best way to pick it up. Lena, noticing her puzzled expression, suggested,

“You take the legs, I take the arms?”

Kara perked up at the idea.

“Yeah, that should work,” she replied, moving to the corpse’s feet and lifting them in the air. They cracked as she bent them. Lena reached for the arms. She had to tug them away from the sides of his body to stand above his head, and again, the joins crackled like firewood.

On three, they lifted him from the ground and lowered him into the box, the arms sticking out by an inch. Lena tucked them inside with care.

Glancing at the dark pool of blood he’d left behind, she grimaced. She’d clean that up later.

She dusted her hands off and examined the body in the box. Her mind was foggy, her thoughts stuck in a haze she was wading through to find her next course of action. Her façade, however, remained unfazed and calm as ever.

_Get duct tape._ She remembered.

She thought she’d find some on the second floor and left to fetch it. Only at the door did she notice Kara following her like a stray cat.

“I’m just going for the tape. You don’t have to come,” she said.

“No,” Kara replied, “I want to.” She didn’t explain, and Lena didn’t ask. She just let Kara follow her downstairs and stare like a guard dog as she dug through the boxes. She found what she was looking for and headed back upstairs.

“So, how do we do this?” Kara asked, having sealed the box.

“I don’t know,” Lena admitted, “you’re the one that can fly so I figured you’d,” she trailed off but her point was made.

Kara took a moment to think.

“You want to come?” she asked.

“Of course,” Lena said, “I killed him,” she breathed, “I should be the one to bury him.”

“Then I might have to make two trips. It wouldn’t be safe to carry both at once.”

“How fast are you, anyway?” Lena asked, as though this was any other day, as though Kara was any ordinary friend, one that had run a marathon recently.

“Never been measured,” Kara admitted, “in space, faster than light. Slower on Earth. I can create vortexes if that helps. But I can’t fly that fast with either of you.”

“We’d disintegrate,” Lena agreed.

A beat of uncomfortable silence followed.

“Should I take the box first?” Kara asked.

“Yes, that’s best, I think. We want it out of sight as early as possible. It’s still dark outside,” Lena remarked.

Kara went to pick up the box but stopped in her tracks to ask Lena which way she could leave. Lena directed her to the giant window in the high ceiling. Its sole purpose was to let in daylight but it could be opened for maintenance's sake.

Kara hauled the box into a comfortable position, as comfortable as it could be, anyway. She prepared to take off. Just as her feet were about to leave the ground, warmth shot through her arm, Lena’s soft hand on her skin. She froze at the touch.

“You will be back for me, right?” Lena asked, her voice worried all of a sudden.

“Of course,” Kara said, and tried to smile reassuringly. Given the circumstances, what came out was a bastardization of a comforting smile, a stretched-out grimace that would’ve scared everyone but Lena.

Lena’s eyes fell from Kara’s to the floor. Her hand dropped from Kara’s arm. Kara felt cold, missing the touch as soon as it was gone.

“Alright then,” Lena spoke, her voice quiet, lacking her usual confidence.

Kara looked her up and down, as if to confirm she’d be alright. The sight didn’t give her much confidence and she decided to make it quick. With a slight nod, she took off, leaving Lena standing underneath the giant windowpane. Her hand was still reached out, frozen mid-air, like a scene in a snow-globe — preserved in time forever, paralyzed. All that was missing was the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /as a bellowing, uncanny valley-esque non-corporeal voice/ spare a crumb of feedback, like, comment, subscribe!


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